What Could Do the Same
by Diary
Summary: Warning: Contains potentially disturbing content. "Tear up the list, and make a new one," he orders. "First thing, you don't lock your heart up, Cas." Complete. Edited slightly.


Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

Warning: Contains a minor character committing suicide.

* * *

"If Cas says he's fine, he's fine," he says, aware his bitterness and disbelief in the words seep through.

Cas isn't fine.

Cas is a ticking time bomb, and he's either going to end up dead or crazy, soon. Dean thinks it should be easier, knowing Cas always somehow manages to come back, but if anything, it's worse. He'll never admit it to Sammy, but he can all too easily imagine the day Cas is permanently lost, and he's still praying and hoping until he's permanently lost, too.

"Dean, he's worse than Dad."

That's not exactly fair, in Dean's opinion.

Shrugging, he starts washing the dishes, glancing over at Sam. "Look, Sammy, if you want him gone-"

"No, of course not," Sam immediately protests, and Dean tries to ignore the way his heart settles at that. "Dean, all I'm saying is that this emotionless, good soldier crap, it's not healthy. These things, they need some kind of outlet, even if it's not a healthy outlet."

"I've tried everything I know, Sam, and so have you and Kevin and some of the other people we've met with. In Purgatory, he didn't want to be saved, and he doesn't want to be saved now. I'm- Look, whether I like it or not, whether any of us do, all we can do is try to make sure he doesn't do anything too stupid."

/

_Panting, trying to ignore the throbbing from his sprained ankle, Dean looks up. "Right on time, Sa-"_

_"Hello, Dean," Cas says as he effortlessly cleans his bloody knife on what looks to be black scrubs. He kneels down. "How bad is the damage?" _

_"Cas," he breathes out, reaching over to pull him into a hug. "It's good to see you, man. How've you been holding up? Me and Sammy have been trying to-"_

_Wriggling out of the grasp, Cas says, "I'm well. Can you walk?" _

_"Cas-"_

_"Dean, there could be more vampires around here. Now isn't the time." _

/

"Hey, Cas," Dean says, watching as Cas checks the guns.

It reminds him of the Cas in 2014, and he takes a reluctant comfort in that, until the Cas of now briefly glances over, his eyes cold and hard, worse than they ever were when he was a good little soldier of the Lord.

For all he hated the thought that he'd broken Cas (never mind that Zachariah was _right_, just not in the way he presented things), at least, that Cas had clearly been capable of some form of happiness. Bitter, broken, willing to go on a suicide mission, but still, there'd been a crinkling to his eyes when he'd smiled.

_What? I like past you._

"Remember, you need sleep," he says, hating how helpless he feels.

"I do. Thank you," Cas says, returning to the guns.

/

_Cas moves, shaking his head, when Sam tries to hug him._

_"I'm truly a hunter, now," he informs them. "I was here for a Chupacabra case, and I heard of the vampire attacks."_

_"What's the word on the angels, Cas?"_

_"Some have been born. Others slipped into very recently dead bodies, locked in. Others, those with vessels, inadvertently killed the souls and were locked inside the bodies. Some have their memories, and some don't. Many of the ones that do wish to murder me." _

_"That sucks," Dean offers as his hand twitches as he lowers it from its path to Cas's shoulder. "How are you holding up?" _

_"Surprisingly well," Cas answers. "I need to continue moving." _

/

Every hour, Dean wakes up and checks on Cas. It's something he's done since Cas moved into the Men of Letters bunker.

They tried to give Cas his own room, but he insisted on taking the couch near the kitchen. An alarm clock is really the only sign there is of the living room being used as a bedroom. Cas founds his sheet every morning and puts it neatly underneath the large suitcase that holds his clothes. He also, every morning, pours out his glass of water and puts it in the sink.

He doesn't even sleep with a pillow.

Occasionally, he might fall asleep before putting away a book.

Now, Cas is asleep, and Dean watches him, wondering if, after he called Cas watching him sleep creepy, this is hypocrisy. It doesn't particularly matter, though, because Cas is- he hesitates to use the term 'beautiful', but Cas is softer, smoother, and more like the Cas Dean is slowly coming to accept is lost forever.

He remembers the Cas who, even pre-insanity, would spring non-sequitors and bizarre philosophical theories on him. He remembers the Cas who seemed to like him and Sammy.

/

_"You could stay with us," Sam offers, desperately. _

_"That would not be wise." _

_"Yeah, and you moving on your own, no back-up, no nothing, that is?" _

_"I'm not the one who needed rescuing earlier," Cas answers, calmly. _

_Sucking in a breath, Dean moves closer. "You will be. Eventually. I don't care how good you've gotten; you're going to screw up. You're going to get in a situation you can't get out of. Ellen, Bobby, my dad, and Rufus were all great hunters. The best of the best. And if they were here, they'd tell you that one of, if not the, biggest advantages they had was people they could count on."_

_"But hey," he continues, "if you want to keep playing God, let's see how well it works out for you this time." _

_"Dean," Sam protests as Cas continues looking at him, no trace of the intended hurt registering._

_Stepping back, Dean says, "You're taking our contact information, at any rate. Whatever you do with it once we're out of sight, that's your call. We're offering you something better, though, Cas. Choices. You can be a hunter, go after angels, or do something about Metatron, or you can be a researcher, or hell, you can even try to live a normal, human life. Whatever you want, we'll help you on two conditions. You don't ever lie to us, and you don't make any big decisions without talking to us, first." _

/

Dean sighs and carefully adjusts the sheet, resisting the urge to put his hand on Cas's forehead, where a lock of hair, slightly curly, persistently finds itself, despite Cas's attempts to brush and gel it away.

He stays for a minute longer, and then, goes back to his room.

Tomorrow, it's Cas's turn to make breakfast. He'll probably be up before Dean is.

Sam contributes during supper, and occasionally, lunch, when he can help by cutting and mixing things. They all usually fix their own sandwiches or salads for lunch, and Dean usually does supper. Whenever Kevin isn't here, Dean's the main breakfast man, too.

Once, Cas made pancake in the shape of bears and stars. He said he'd wanted to experiment.

Kevin had scoffed and grumbled, but for the rest of the day, a small amount of his former innocence had returned. He'd never be a kid, again; he's a man, now, for better and worse, but they'd seen a glimpse of the man he could be, not as broken, able to find happiness in life.

Sam had ordered Cas to keep experimenting whenever Kevin came over.

Dean wishes he knew what could do the same for Cas, bring back the person who'd always had too much heart.

/

_"Very well," Cas says. "Provided the same conditions apply to the two of you, I'll see if staying here can work." _

_"Excuse me? You think- We're not the ones who've lied to you, Cas." _

_"Dean," Sam says, quickly. "That's fair." _

_"Hate to bring it up, but when we look at the scale, him not trusting us never stops being hilarious."_

_"When I was an angel, you couldn't lie to me; I always knew the truth. When I was Emmanuel, you did lie to me. More than that, I know you both well enough to know that lying and doing drastic things without having a conversation beforehand is a standard occurrence." _

_"First, it's a common occurrence, not standard, and second, we're going to do things better. Absolutely no more lies or making big decisions on our own, right, Sammy?" _

_"That's right," Sam agrees. "It's time we all grew up, Cas. Look, let's just clean the slate, okay? We're all going to trust each other, and we're all going to be worthy of that trust." _

_"Very well," Cas repeats. _

/

"I'm just saying," Kevin says, determined to outgeek Sammy, "the characterisation-"

"It's not about characterisation, it's about…"

"You have enough to eat, Cas," Dean inquires, tuning them out. "I can whip up some more pancakes and eggs. They won't be in the shapes of dinosaurs, but they'll still be just as tasty. Maybe more."

"I did, yes," Cas answers, reaching over to take Dean's empty plate and setting it on his own. "On the hunt today, I was thinking…"

Briefly closing his eyes, Dean takes a breath, and then, forces himself to listen.

/

_"Hey, it's okay, Cas," Dean says, shaking his head when he feels two fingers on his forehead. "Sorry, buddy, but that doesn't work anymore. Hey, it's okay," he repeats, taking in Cas's deathly pale appearance and wide eyes. "These things just happen, sometimes. We both did good. Dammit, Sammy, I told you to bring the dissolvable stitches." _

_"Kevin needed them, and a new order won't-"_

_"Cas, take my hand," Dean orders, reaching out. When Cas hesitates, he says, "C'mon, Cas. I promise, when you're in my position, I'll let you test your grip on my hand, okay?" _

_Cas complies, barely flinching when Dean reacts to the antiseptic hitting his wound. _

_When he's all stitched up, he exhales, letting go. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it? You make a half-decent squeeze toy," he says, winking. "Your hand still in one piece?" _

_"Yes," Cas answers, taking a breath. Then, his face is as hard as ever. "Can you be moved?" _

/

"I think our waitress likes me," he says, watching as Cas tries to master his chopsticks. "Here," he says, reaching over. "This is a trick Bobby taught me and Sam."

"Of course, she does," Cas says, allowing Dean to maneuverer his hand and the chopsticks. "I don't mind taking a bus to meet Kevin at Garth's."

"Okay," Dean says, feeling confused as he looks up. "I think I might have missed something somewhere. Here, see if that works."

"She told you here shift was over in fifteen minutes. I can go meet Kevin and Garth, and you can take your car when you're-" He pauses, obviously trying to choose his words.

Dean laughs and is unsure if he's amused or something else. "That's mighty nice of you, Cas," he teases. "But I don't do that anymore. Haven't in a long time, actually."

Managing to more-or-less control his chopsticks, Cas looks over, and Dean hadn't realised how much he missed the tilted head, vaguely confused look until now. "What trouble do you think I could possibly get into on a thirty minute bus ride?"

Oh, he thinks, feeling the sting and shock, mixed with exasperation, at the realisation.

"Cas, I hate to tell you this, but you're not that special. I mostly stopped a long time before you reappeared and ganked that vamp. It has nothing to do with you."

That, he knows, an uncomfortable feeling creeping in his stomach, isn't completely true, but he's not having an internal crisis in the middle of a restaurant.

"To answer your question, though, I shudder to think, dude. Even when you were a good little angel soldier, you had your moments of being an absolute hellraiser," he says, grinning.

"Would it be too personal to ask why you stopped?"

"Well, I had that year of normal with Lisa and Ben," he says, digging his wallet out. "And the truth is, there was one time- one time, I almost- but I didn't. I didn't even let the girl kiss me, because it just wasn't worth the chance of Lisa ever finding out. I guess that proving to myself that I could do right by someone, it changed something. Then, Sam had to kill my almost grown Amazon daughter, and I'm still not over that. Might never be. So, you know. Maybe, someday, I'll find someone more permanent. Maybe I won't. Right now, though, I'm just not up for anything causal."

"I see."

"Yeah," Dean says, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder, wondering if (hoping) this is progress. "Hey, when we're ready, can you get the tip? I only brought the cards, and I don't like putting tips on them."

"Yes," Cas answers, and Dean knows any potential moment is gone.

/

_"No last words, Castiel?" _

_Cas calmly stuck his neck further out, almost touching it to the knife, causing Dean to struggle even harder and yell even louder through his restraints and gags. _

_The former angel shook and took half a step back. "Speak, Castiel?" _

_"What would you have me say? Kill me or let the Winchesters go." _

_"No," the former angel trembled, the knife shaking even more._

_"I hunt those who hurt humans, which you don't. I don't believe you'll attempt to hurt them," he says, only briefly glancing at Dean and Sam. "If you do, I don't believe you'll be able to." _

_"No, no, no!" _

_"Oh," Cas says, and it sends chills down Dean's spine, momentarily freezing his efforts to get free. "You believe some part of me still cares. I don't. Yes, I killed and murdered numerous angels. Yes, I killed countless humans. Yes, I am responsible for your loss of grace, as well as that of all our former brothers and sisters. I don't feel regret anymore. I won't plead for a chance to fix things. If you think this will help make things better, I suppose that's fair. I haven't moved an inch, and I give you my word I won't. The only thing stopping you right now is yourself. I suggest you rectify that before one of the Winchesters gets free." _

_When the former angel turns the knife on its new human body, on itself, her or himself, Dean sees the look on Cas's face and feels tears in his eyes. He finally realises Cas's distant act hasn't been an act. _

_All he can do is thank God (or not; someone or anything else, really), Sam's still unconscious, that he didn't have to witness all this. _

/

Dean jumps awake at the sound of Cas screaming.

Grabbing a nearby knife, he rushes to the living room.

He can't see any threat, the salt across the windows and doors all undisturbed, and he realises Cas, still on the couch, twitching and screaming, undecipherable sounds, is having a nightmare.

Sighing, he goes to put the knife in the kitchen and wonders if he should call Sammy over at Garth's and see if any of the three-geek amigos can give him advice. He doesn't remember what he should and shouldn't do when dealing with a person having a nightmare.

It turns out that he doesn't need to know this minute.

Cas is sitting up, eyes open and slightly teary. He glances over when he hears Dean approaching.

"Hey," Dean says, softly, holding his hands up. "What do you need?"

Shaking his head, Cas starts to stand, only to misstep, causing him to grab the arm of the couch. "I'll be fine," he says, sliding down onto the floor.

"Yeah, okay," Dean agrees, moving to sit on the couch. "Look, if you don't feel up to talking, that's fine. But you're not okay, and I'm not just going to leave. I can sit here, or I can make you some hot chocolate. Whatever might help."

He briefly considers offering a stronger drink but quickly discards it.

Cas, since he found them again, has had one glass of wine. He's declared him a teetotaller, and with memories of 2014 Cas still vivid, Dean's been perfectly happy respecting that.

"It was simply a bad dream."

"Okay."

"I wish to go back to sleep."

Letting out another sigh, Dean says, "Yeah, sure. Whatever."

He starts to get up, wondering if he should have taken a lesson from Lisa and Ben. Ever since Sam packed up from college and rode off with him, he's been determined he'll never leave the people he loves. He almost has a few times, but aside from the above, he hasn't, not fully. He's screwed up so many times that God probably doesn't even know the exact number, but he's always tried to fix things.

Some part of him can see him, wishing the angel who'd pulled him out of Hell would just go away and leave him to live his life. In the green room for the first time, he had thought Cas being a friend was something he'd just convinced himself of. He can still almost feel his back hitting the wall, a firm, warm hand over his mouth, and he'd been terrified when Cas withdrew the knife, but he'd resigned himself to his fate, looked into Cas's eyes, and nodded.

Cas rebelled. He killed his family for Dean, and Dean wishes he could go back and tell himself to fully, truly grasp how- he'd never fully appreciated that, had he?

_I always come when you call. I gave up everything for you. I am your friend. Please. _

Sentences and words he can remember, and too little, too late, isn't it? He dragged crazy Cas into Dick Roman's lair, and Cas got his sanity back in Purgatory, but Dean finally and completely lost his friend, didn't he?

He had so many chances to do things better, but- maybe if he'd even just talked to Cas that week before the angels fell instead of holding onto his anger.

Before he can fully stand, Cas's hand is around his leg. "Hey," he says, settling, his hand hovering awkwardly. "What do you need?"

"I-I'm fine."

Suddenly, he has a sobbing person with their head buried in his lap, and he tries to fight down the panic. This position is one he's somehow managed to avoid up 'til now.

Right, he tells himself, looking between Cas and his hand, this isn't awkward at all. No, not at all.

This is Cas, some part of him retorts, and that helps.

Taking a breath, feeling his hand steady, he lowers it to Cas's head. "No, you're not. But that's okay. You just- you just do what you need to, okay? I'm here, and I promise I'm not going anywhere."

Cas continues crying, and Dean makes gentles circles on his head, bringing his other hand to as settle on Cas's neck.

"I've been lying," Cas chokes out, and Dean feels a rage of fury, quickly dulled down.

"Dammit, Cas," he snaps. "What did you do? What have you done this time?"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, sorry, sorry," Cas babbles out through his tears.

"Look," he says, continuing to make gentle circles, "just tell me what you did. We'll try to fix it."

"No," Cas sobs. "No. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Thankfully, something pops into his head.

"Wait- Cas, you haven't done anything. Or- You keep saying you're fine, but you're not. Even you can't convince yourself of it. That's it, right?"

"Lying," is the simple response.

"Okay, well, that wasn't- exactly- You know what? That's not good, and it's not healthy, but whether we like it or not, you have a right to privacy. I just wish you'd let us help," he continues. "Cas, I've been down this road. Never cry in front of anyone, only show happiness or anger, and even then, it could only be at certain times and in certain ways. Drink, women, car stuff, unnecessary violence while ganking, all that to cope. Newsflash, buddy, it didn't work for me, and it won't for you. Whatever it is you've been doing, because I'm not too clear on that."

"I'm so sorry, Dean," Cas says. "For what I did to you and Heaven and- you yell when I run. It can't be fixed!"

"Okay," he says. "Alright. Let me tell you about this pretty bartender I met once. This Egyptian bastard was killing people who couldn't let go of guilt. I was one of his targets, but never mind that. This bartender said something about letting go of guilt if there's nothing that can be done to change things. I didn't accept that, and I still have trouble with it. But when Sam was willing to die to shut the gates, I bandaged up his hand, and I begged him to let go. Sammy did."

"I've got things I don't think I can ever fix, either, Cas. But I also have you, Sam, Kevin, Charlie, all these people I love. Moreover, so do you. I don't know, maybe we can never be fine, but what do you say we try to be as fine as we can be, huh? This isn't the way, though. We need to keep looking."

"How can you forgive me?"

Biting back the words that almost tumble out, he says, "Because. How can you forgive me?"

"With few exceptions where I've done things I've regretted, it's never been hard," Cas says, sounding less teary as he takes a breath.

"Sometimes, it's been hard for me," he admits. "But what I said in that crypt? I meant it. Now, are you going to let me help you?"

Cas withdraws, slightly, and Dean sees he needs to find some tissues quickly. "Hot chocolate sounds nice," he says, cautiously.

"Alright," Dean says, as he stands and helps Cas up. "First, let's get your face cleaned before someone mistakes you for a demon, okay?"

"A demon face comes nothing close to any human face I've ever seen, no matter how dirty or disfigured," Cas informs him, seriously.

It catches Dean off-guard, and he finds himself laughing as he leads Cas to the kitchen. "I've missed you, man," he says, looking over. "You want to tell me what this has all been about?"

"I've been told I have too much heart," Cas answers as Dean carefully cleans his face. "So, I visualised locking it in a box. Every morning and every night, I'd check the box to ensure the locks were still in place. I'm not sure how that worked, but with my heart locked in the box, I found it much easier to detach myself emotionally from everything."

"Sounds like Sam when he was soulless," he comments, getting the stuff ready for the hot chocolate. "That didn't work out too well."

"I constantly reminded myself of what not to do."

"Tear up the list, and make a new one," he orders. "First thing, you don't lock your heart up, Cas."

"Understood."

"Did you unlock it, or did something force it open?"

"Dean- I'm not ready to talk about that, yet."

Pushing aside the irritation and disappointment, Dean nods and sets the mug down. "Careful," he warns. "That's warm." As he gets the marshmallows out, he says, "Fine. When you're ready. I'm serious, though, Cas, don't do what you've been doing, don't lie to us, and don't make big decisions without talking to us. If you really think that you need to lock it up, again, freaking talk to us, first. And if you're not fine and need time, tell us."

"The same still applies to you and the others."

"Okay," Dean agrees, sitting down with his own mug. "Now, can we talk about your sleeping arrangements?"

"If you wish."

"We have plenty of rooms. You need to pick one and decorate it. Guests sleep on the couch. You're not a guest."

"Kevin is a guest, and he sleeps in a room. Also, I've heard of people giving up their rooms for guests while taking the couch," Cas says, puzzled.

Feeling the smile spreading across his face, Dean looks over, catching Cas's eyes. "It really is good to have you back, Cas. Listen, even if you don't understand why, trust me, having a room, decorating it, that's important. Okay? So, tomorrow, we'll see if Sammy wants to go with us, and after you pick out a room, we're going to get stuff for it."


End file.
